


good opinion once lost

by WildKitte



Series: Sylvix P&P AU [1]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Pride and Prejudice Fusion, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Universe, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Blue Lions Route, Letters, Love Confessions, M/M, Making Up, Marriage Proposal, Misunderstandings, Post-Time Skip, Resolved Romantic Tension, Reunions, This fic is cheesy, kind of a handwavey adaptation of the 2005 movie, the quattro formaggi of fanfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-27
Updated: 2020-04-28
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:02:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23861260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WildKitte/pseuds/WildKitte
Summary: Sylvain doesn’t want to fight. Felix clearly does.*Felix confronts Sylvain after a battle. Pride and Prejudice-inspired canon divergence.
Relationships: Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Sylvain Jose Gautier
Series: Sylvix P&P AU [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1772455
Comments: 20
Kudos: 131





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I have not played this game.  
> All of my knowledge comes from hours upon hours of watching YT clips of the supports, comparing the ENG and JPN dubs, watching at least three hour's worth of analysis videos and then some gameplay compilations, scouring some wiki, and most importantly - [Lin](https://twitter.com/qiliin)!  
> I'm obsessed with the 2005 movie adaptation of Pride & Prejudice with Keira Knightley and one day just crashed into Lin's DMs with "what if sylvix but p&p" and from there started a wonderful conversation that sparked this fic and a lot of excited screaming.
> 
> Lin, this fic would not exist without you. Thank you for dragging me into this ship and answering my questions about characterization and fire emblem horses. And happy birthday!
> 
> Some lines are lifted from the 2005 movie.

It has been grey all day, the air humid and oppressing throughout the battle. Sylvain is sweating under his armour, and his limbs are heavy with exhaustion as he makes his way through the courtyard. Storm is coming, he can tell. Clouds are crawling across the sky with the strong gust of wind, and the first droplets of rain are staining the ground like blotches of spilled ink. He wants to be clean, he wants to wash off the grime on his skin and dirty hair, to take the damned armour off and just sleep his exhaustion away, worry about everything tomorrow.

His dreams will be filled with familiar faces falling under his spear. He’s almost used to them now.

“Sylvain!”

He can’t help how his entire body tenses at the call. He doesn’t need to turn around to see who it is, but he does anyway, unable to stop himself from always reaching out for Felix, like a sunflower following the sun. Sylvain can tell from voice alone that Felix is pissed at him. Looking at him now, stalking towards him with fury and murder in his eyes, he can’t help but marvel whatever predicament he has put himself in this time.

It had not been the first time that Sylvain had made sure to not let Felix out of his eyes on the battlefield, nor had it been the first time his lance had just blocked an enemy soldier from driving their sword in Felix’s back, but it ate up his insides the same each time. Same fear and panic, and rush of adrenaline.

The moment Felix had turned around, sword ready to strike down whatever enemy was dumb enough to try and ambush him, Sylvain had known.

He’d known he was in deep shit, as usual.

“What,” Felix spits at him, “was that.”

Sylvain stands still for a moment and just breathes – his armour is heavy and he’s desperate to wash the blood off his hands. He’s tired, he’s so _tired_.

“Can this wait?” he pleads, hanging his head.

“Absolutely not.” Felix finally catches up to him and slams his fist in Sylvain’s chest plate. “What the fuck was that?”

“You mean the part of me coming to your help?” Sylvain asks, eyes boring into Felix’s. “Or the part where I saved your life?”

“You know damn well,” Felix hisses, slamming his chest plate again for good measure. “Why do you always have to meddle with what doesn’t belong to you?”

Sylvain feels irritation well up in him.

“Thank you, Sylvain,” he spells out like one would to a child, and he can see Felix already puffing up in anger, “for saving my life and not letting me die because I don’t have eyes in the back of my skull.”

“You’re insufferable, you know that?”

“I have been told.”

Sylvain doesn’t want to fight. Felix clearly does. Sometimes he really hates being so head over heels in love with him, since it would benefit him greatly if he could just keep to himself. Instead he raises his hand (and it feels so heavy) and brushes it along a bruise on Felix’s cheek. Felix flinches. His heart feels heavier.

“Do you really think so little of me? That I would save your life to spite you?” His voice comes out too hoarse and Felix’s face twists in anger.

“Stop treating me like a damsel in distress,” he says, and his voice raises in volume, batting Sylvain’s hand away. It falls limp to his side, and he clenches his fists.

“Maybe if you weren’t so reckless and ready to throw your life aside!” Sylvain says, matching Felix’s in animosity. Felix’s jaw drops and his voice gets sharp:

“And what the fuck does it have to do with you?”

“Felix—”

“What the fuck does it have to do with you what I do out there? Why can’t you just stay where you’re told to go and leave me alone?!”

Sylvain bites his lip until the skin breaks. And then it just spills out of him:

“I love you.” He pauses and meets Felix’s eyes. “Most ardently.”

Felix stops. All of him stops, his hand raised in the air like waiting for a viper to strike, his lips slightly parted, breath baited.

“If I could, I would marry you, I would take you away from all this and make sure you’d never be in danger again,” Sylvain says, and Felix tries to interrupt but the words are flowing over before he can stop them. “I don’t want you to be alone, and I can’t watch you throw your life away before anyone can reach you.” He slides a hand through his hair, and then he feels it – the rain, finally, on his skin.

Like finally given permission, it spills down from the skies and dyes the ground dark underneath their feet completely in seconds. The heavy downpour drenches them immediately, but neither of them has the mind to rush for cover. Instead they stand there, out in the open.

“I’ve struggled with loving you – against my judgement, my family’s expectations, the war, the fucking Crest babies.” He feels as breathless as Felix looks, trembling as the cool rain pebbles down his armour. It just won’t stop – the pounding in his ears, the words, he’s spilling out everything for Felix to see. Armour splitting.

“I don’t understand,” Felix falters, eyes wide and vulnerable, starting to shake.

“Marry me. My family will disapprove, I know they will, but I just want to _take care of you_. Keep you safe,” Sylvain pleads, stepping closer to put his hands on Felix’s shoulders.

“Keep me—” Felix mouths, incredulous. And then he laughs, bitter, and all of Sylvain’s body goes cold. “You asshole. You have the fucking nerve.”

Sylvain realizes, in that moment that he’s made a mistake. A horrible mistake, and he can see how his words twist in Felix’s head into a terrible misunderstanding, but he can’t stop it, can’t take it back – and he despairs. Despairs at how Felix is looking at him.

“Is this what saving me is all about, to you?” He tilts his head and his eyes bore into Sylvain’s. “ _Taking care of me_? Is that what this is? I’m just another game?”

Sylvain’s hackles rise and he knits his brows. “That’s not what I—"

“No, _you_ chose to tell me,” Felix says, and the way his voice breaks makes Sylvain ache, “that you love me against your better judgement – what, to spite your family? A little rebellion before you settle down with a wife and your goddamn _Crest babies_?” He spits it out like the dirty word it is.

“No—” Sylvain tries, but Felix won’t let him continue, too enraged to listen whatever explanations he has to offer.

“Are you pitying me? Oh, poor Felix with the dead family, all alone, and what – you’ll rescue me like a disgraced bride and make me sit home with the resentment of house Gautier on me?” Felix’s voice simmers with hatred. He’s soaked – his clothes are darkened and heavy, his hair flat against his head, water dripping in his eyes.

Sylvain swallows. Something is stuck in his throat.

“So you’re rejecting me?”

“I can promise,” Felix hisses between gritted teeth, “that you are the last man in the world I could ever marry.”

Thunder booms suddenly and the wind picks up, and there is a flash of light in the horizon, promising long night of strong weather.

Sylvain doesn’t care, can’t even bring himself to flinch.

“This really is what you think of me?” he asks, irritation and anger rising. “That I am one to take advantage of my rank and manipulate you into a marriage of convenience?”

“It sure didn’t stop you from playing with all your girlfriends back in the day!” Felix spits back and shrugs Sylvain off of him.

Sylvain stares at him and then the fight leaves him all at once.

“Really?” he chuckles, but his knees feel weak and the earlier weariness crashes on him tenfold and he staggers a little.

Felix immediately catches him by the arm, just a reflex but worry flashes in his eyes.

“You truly are—" Felix scoffs in his face, but his eyes are searching, scanning for injuries, and Sylvain –

Sylvain leans closer. Felix’s eyes widen, and Sylvain hesitates, eyes flicking to his lips, and Felix mirrors him, and the pull is strong – he wants to, he wants to kiss him so badly it’s like his lungs are about to collapse, his ribs about to crack from his heart gravitating to where it wants to burrow in and nest.

For a second it looks like Felix wants to kiss him too.

Another, and it’s gone.

He backs away, feeling the water dripping down his spine from his hair, a cold douse of water chilling him to the bone. For there are no wounds, at least not visible to the eye, and he gathers himself and stands up straight. Gently, he removes Felix’s hands off his arm and forces a faint smile on his face.

“Forgive me, then,” Sylvain says, and steps away from Felix who is staring at him frozen in place, “for taking up so much of your time.”

He turns around and does not look behind.

His chest feels hollow and he’s cold, the rain doesn’t let up and he can’t hear anything but the fall of it pelting the ground.

He’ll think about it tomorrow. For now, he needs a bath, and then sleep.

Felix doesn’t budge from where his feet are fixed.

* * *

Sylvain can’t sleep. He keeps going over the fight in his head, worrying his lip until the old wound splits open again and aches.

All night, he stares at the ceiling and thinks.

The next day he volunteers for the expedition to south with Ashe and Mercedes and a battalion of soldiers to secure the supply route for the next battle. Not to risk his life, no, never that. But to get away, for a while. Give Felix, and himself, time to cool down. To prepare for whatever answer Felix will give to him when – if – he returns.

He starts by writing a letter.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _My dearest Felix_ , Sylvain starts the letter. Felix’s face feels warm. My dearest, he goes over the greeting two more times, and then decides to stop dawdling. It will do no good for either of them.  
> So:
> 
> _My dearest Felix,_
> 
> *
> 
> The aftermath

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Felix POV!  
> I took the creative liberties to ignore how mean Felix is to Ingrid in canon and they are FRIENDS now. I only want good things for Ingrid and Felix needs to drink some "respect women"-juice posthaste.
> 
> Once again, thank you Lin for your help and enthusiasm for this fic!
> 
> I might write more for this AU (if this counts as one?) in the future, because there are scenes from the movie I desperately want to write (especially Sylvain channeling the awkwardness of 2005 Darcy) - but we'll see! They'll come out when they come out.
> 
> NOW WITH BEAUTIFUL [ART](https://twitter.com/qiliin/status/1257755446485671938)FROM LIN go take a look and SOB WITH ME

They leave on a sunny afternoon.

Felix looks at the party preparing on the monastery yard, the carriages being loaded with necessities, stable boys and maids running among the small company of soldiers. He squints his eyes and – yes, there, Ashe and Mercedes preparing their mounts, talking pleasantly and laughing, looking at ease despite the difficult task ahead of them. He tries to look for red hair and shining armour but can’t quite make it out from the other members of the infantry.

There is a knock at the door, and Felix hums an affirmation that he’s present, assuming it’s perhaps Annette or one of the servants.

There is another rap of knuckles against his door and Felix frowns. Not Annette then.

“Come in,” he snaps, and the door opens.

It’s Sylvain, with a sheepish smile and a letter in his hand. He’s already armoured up, a satchel hung over his shoulder, and he steps in. Felix hates himself for how his heart tumbles at the sight of him, the barriers he’s built to protect it now squeezing tight and suffocating. Embarrassment ripples through him – memories from yesterday flash in his head with painful clarity, and the embarrassment merges with anger and wounded pride.

Felix hates the sight of him. But he hates that this is a goodbye. He’s being ripped in half, and he doesn’t know what to do with the halves of him. He spent the sleepless night recalling the way Sylvain’s face fell and body crumpled with the weight of his rejection, and guilt swirls deep within his gut.

He was deeply wounded but inflicting it back on him brought him no satisfaction.

He didn’t want to see Sylvain yet, but the fates are never that kind to him.

Sylvain is quiet for a moment and the finally speaks up:

“This is… This is for you. I’m leaving and… it’s not a _last will_ or anything – “ and Felix can’t help how his throat constricts at that “ – but I’d like to clarify some… misunderstandings between us.” He places the letter gingerly on Felix’s nightstand and bows his head as a farewell.

“Safe travels,” Felix manages to get out before he’s turned around, and Sylvain smiles a little wider, a little more genuine.

“Thank you. We’ll be back.”

And with an apprehensive smile and hasty nod, he closes the door behind him and is gone.

Felix just stands there, unmoving and stuck in time. He doesn’t go back to the window, can’t bear to make himself watch as they leave. After a long moment he goes to the nightstand and picks up the letter, turning it in his hands.

He vehemently refuses to acknowledge how his hands are shaking. Of course Sylvain would not even put the letter in an envelope like a civilized person. After a moment, Felix puts the letter down. He’ll read it in the evening.

Agitation is pushing at his ribs, and he ignored the pounding turmoil in his head as he heads for the training grounds.

Maybe fresh air will clear his head and bring him courage.

* * *

It is late in the evening when Felix finally sits down at his desk and opens the folds of Sylvain’s letter.

Sylvain’s handwriting is not very good nor is his penmanship – it’s clear he hasn’t been keeping it up. His handwriting tilts to the left and dips at the end, his commas are all over the place and sometimes Felix has to bring the letter close to his face to decipher what word Sylvain meant to write, is it an _h_ or an _n_ or some kind of abomination of a hasty _m_. He’s certainly not a poet – for a notorious flirt he doesn’t quite have the affinity for grand literary romance.

Felix decides he can forgive this.

_My dearest Felix_ , Sylvain starts the letter. Felix’s face feels warm. My dearest, he goes over the greeting two more times, and then decides to stop dawdling. It will do no good for either of them.

So:

_My dearest Felix,_

_I don’t want to push my confession on you again. That is not what I am doing. You can decide to hate me forever later, if you want. But I want to sort out what happened between us and to clear the air and confusion once and for all._

_I am an idiot. I am the biggest moron in all of Fódlan. I hurt you and I wounded your pride and I am sorry. I wish I could take it all back and start that stupid conversation over. Make you understand what I meant. Instead I’m writing this letter like a coward. Which I am, before you say anything. I am nothing if self-aware._

_First thing I want to make absolutely clear: asking your hand in marriage is not to spite my family. The Gautier bloodline might as well end with me and I do not care to be involved in the politics of Crests and arranged marriages. I do not care what they think of you or me or us or whatever I want to do with my own life. I will choose to marry or not marry whoever I want. The same right and privilege should be allowed for all of us._

_For you especially._

_You are not weak. You are not pitiful or someone to be saved and tucked away. You are skilled and amazing with the sword and you work hard. I know you think you want to do everything alone – I don’t know if you want to prove something or show your worth but to me you don’t have to._

_I see you because I have always watched you. Since we were little and you would come crying to me for comfort. Since our academy days when you prickled like a hedgehog and pushed me away and wanted to prove yourself to everyone who would watch. And I did. And in watching you I have grown to love you. Me wanting to protect you has nothing to do with you being weak or me showing off. I want to protect you so that you don’t die for I could not bear it. Nothing more nothing less._

_I am certain of my feelings. I apologise for what I said. My feelings are not “against my judgement” – I am such an idiot I cannot believe the shit that comes out of my mouth. I have not as much struggled in my feelings as I have struggled to come to terms with caring for you so deeply it scares me. I love you. I want to live my life and grow old with you. It is that simple._

_Shit. I guess this was exactly what I promised not to do. But I don’t want to write another letter._

_I have not forgotten our promise. It will hold no matter what you decide._

_If my feelings are not returned, tell me and I will be silent forever. But if by some stupid luck you can forgive my stupid ass and give us a chance – when I return, meet me at dawn. Meet me at the gates and I will drop on my knees for you and love you forever and make you the happiest man in all of Faerghus._

_Yours always,_

_Sylvain_

The letter is fine.

Sitting down on his bed, Felix buries his face in his hands, face burning hot. Sylvain’s penmanship is fine, and his sloppy handwriting does not matter.

Felix raises his head and lets out a deep sigh. His eyes are stinging, and he leans his forehead against his palm. He skims through the letter again, printing to memory every blotch of ink and uneven line.

It will be three days before Sylvain and the company are supposed to come back.

* * *

Ingrid is still up when Felix knocks on her door. She looks completely unsurprised when she sees him and lets him in without a word. She sits at her bed and then taps the space next to her pointedly. Felix sits down and leans on his knees, paper still clutched in his hand.

“Is that the letter he left you?” Ingrid asks, and Felix finds her straight-forwardness soothing and somehow nostalgic in a way he hasn’t felt since they were children.

“It’s confusing,” he admits. “What he said and what he wrote are completely at odds.”

Ingrid nods sagely. “He’s an idiot and never watches his mouth. I had no doubts he would mess it up, though I didn’t expect it to go _that_ badly. He’s been especially pathetic lately.”

A smile tugs at Felix’s mouth and as he glances at his friend, she’s smiling back at him.

“He does really love you, though,” Ingrid says.

“He did make that clear.” _If nothing else_ , he doesn’t say. “I just don’t know what to think. Of all this.”

“I don’t think Sylvain has it all figured out either,” Ingrid hums. “He’s been kind of a mess ever since he realised his feelings for you – even if it was always obvious, for everyone else at least.” Her smile turns mischievous at Felix’s incredulous look, but then she continues: “Not that it makes it any better. I can’t tell what he wants from you or your future. I just know he wants you in it.”

Felix can feel the blush splashing on his face and Ingrid nudges him teasingly.

“You should meet him halfway. Tell him what you want. He knows you well, maybe better than anyone else, but he still can’t read minds.”

There is a reason Felix comes to Ingrid for advice. She doesn’t judge or tease, she takes him seriously and sees the situation as it is. She’s become good at seeing the bigger picture, matured into wisdom in a way Felix admires.

She’s probably right, as usual.

“I really like him,” Felix says softly.

“Which is why what he said wounded you so,” Ingrid concludes for him. Felix clenches his fists and the paper crumples into a thousand wrinkles.

“I am not some sort of trophy to be tucked away.” Felix looks up at her. “I… I want him _by my side_ , I don’t want to be left behind. Not… not again.” He knows Ingrid will understand his meaning.

She lays a reassuring hand on his shoulder and smiles sadly. “You don’t have to say yes. You can always decline him, and he won’t bring it up again, because he loves you.”

Yes, Felix believes her.

“But,” she continues, “if you think there is a possible future for the two of you that you want to pursue… Well. Just be honest with yourself.” She shrugs. “That’s the only advice I can give you. Just make sure you won’t regret your decision in the long run.”

Felix bids Ingrid farewell and Ingrid tells him to sleep well with a sympathetic smile on her face, and Felix makes his way to his room.

He lies down on his bed and thinks.

It’s almost a relief, knowing he has an out of the situation, that he won’t be trapped in Sylvain’s affections. Sylvain will let him go, because he is a good man. It would never come up again, and they could both move on, remain friends and keep their promise until the end and nothing would change.

But he can’t help but feel agitation rising in his chest at the thought of them drifting apart, of Sylvain having to bend backwards to meet his family’s expectations to keep himself together. Maybe Sylvain could learn to love that kind of life out of duty, and perhaps Felix could learn to love someone else in his stead as well.

But like this? Would there be ever be a connection like this – this unwavering faith?

Felix stares at his ceiling and maps the lines of the wood with his eyes, counting growth rings as decision forms in his head.

* * *

The convoy does not return on the third day, nor the fourth, nor the sixth.

Felix memorizes the letter.

* * *

It’s a foggy morning, not quite sunrise, when Felix hears commotion from outside. He blinks groggily and sits up, his eyes adjusting to the dim light of the room, shivering in the chill of the morning. Geese – he can hear geese honking and the song of the earliest birds twittering away.

Felix gets up, running a hand through his loose hair, rushing to the window. A flock of stable boys and curious guards are peering over at the gates, searching at something and then –

“They’re back! They’re back, that’s Sylvain –”

And that’s all Felix hears before he stumbles to the door, still in his sleep shirt and light slacks, stuffing his feet in boots in haste and then bolts down the stairs to get outside, a flush rising to his cheeks as his heart fills with the beams of sunshine peeking above the horizon.

He runs, like he never has before – his heart beating loud and clear in his chest, his breath laboured but free and full of bubbling laughter, ready to spill over at any moment. Across the courtyard, past the gates, and he finally sees him, the glint of his armour and beautiful red hair, the sunrise framing him like golden fire. How can feet be this light, how can steps be this effortless and running like flying? It’s like there is a path of pure sunlight opening underneath his feet, guiding him to where his heart is.

At this distance Felix sees it: Sylvain’s eyes widening and his mouth going lax in surprise, and then _relief_ and _delight_ and yes, that warm honey of affection and _love_. Felix’s feet stall as he takes it in and lets happiness wash over him, and he stops, arms reaching towards Sylvain and Sylvain takes him, takes his hands in his.

“Welcome back,” Felix says and he’s smiling, his eyes crinkling with delight and Sylvain looks at him, full of wonder and devotion.

“I came as soon as I could. I would hate to keep you waiting,” he says, lightly squeezing Felix’s hands, voice barely above a whisper. Felix hears him just fine, what he says and doesn’t say.

Felix brings Sylvain’s fingers to his lips. “Thank you for coming home.” He looks up and cannot contain the smile, it spills out of him unrestrained and Sylvain laughs.

“Your hands are cold.”

Felix bites his lip and nods.

They gaze into each other’s eyes and faintly, he can hear the rest of the company approaching, Ashe and Mercedes calling for them, but he cannot look away from Sylvain, can’t bear to not be closer, and he steps in, their hands clasped together between their chests.

His armour shines in the rising sun like he’s a heroic knight from Glenn’s stories, and the sunbeams paint them with light, warm and soothing on his skin, like the brush of Sylvain’s fingers on his cheek. It’s unbearable – happiness is a heavy burden to bear, his feet feel rooted to the ground so firmly, and yet when he leans against Sylvain it feels like he’s light like air.

It’s incredible – he could’ve had this, all of this, had he not been so blinded by his pride and chained by his prejudice of Sylvain, misunderstanding him by default and on purpose to shield himself from the humiliation of being wrong. But here he is now, and his heart is in his hands and Sylvain is holding it. So gently, like the brittle, fragile thing it is, and there is no fear, no apprehension or flame of anger in him.

Felix opens Sylvain’s palms and presses a feather-light kiss on each and then looks up with a smile, marvelling at the devotion he finds in Sylvain’s eyes.

However, he has to get it off his chest. He takes a deep breath.

“I read your letter,” he says, “multiple times. The things you said… perhaps I was too hasty to misjudge your meaning.” He steels his gaze and finds Sylvain attentive, and it feels good to have him properly listen what he has to say. “I understand why you seek me out. I understand you want to keep me safe – believe me, sometimes when you return injured, I want to throttle you for risking your life like that.” He throws a warning look before Sylvain can say anything about _pots and kettles_. “But you can’t take my passion away from me. I am a soldier, I was raised as one, and all of my ambitions revolve around becoming stronger.” Felix pauses for a moment, contemplating how to explain himself. “I want to be stronger for Faerghus and its people. You understand that, right?”

Sylvain says nothing, just nods, waiting for him to continue. Felix can’t help himself and strokes a hand across Sylvain’s cheek, unable to contain his affections.

“So instead… Keep me by your side. I don’t want my blade to grow dull and rust.” He huffs, fighting down the flush of his cheeks. “So don’t you dare hold me back, or I’ll surpass you and leave you behind.”

Sylvain leans in his touch, his expression soft and earnest. “I wouldn’t dream of it.” Felix rubs his thumb across his cheekbone tenderly and then he grins.

“Alright, now that that’s out of the way—” Felix says, and Sylvain raises his brows. Felix smiles back. “Ask me again.”

Sylvain laughs, breath warm against his face. He presses their foreheads together and they close their eyes in tandem.

“Marry me?”

And this time there is no hesitation, because – of course – there is no other answer:

“Yes,” Felix says. “A thousand times yes.”

_fin_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EDIT: i just... I realised I completely forgot about Sylvain's horse. This is so stupid of me - please pretend his horse is with Ashe and Mercedes and he just wanted to make a dramatic entrance by walking to Felix? Oh dear :'D
> 
> Kudos and comments are appreciated <3
> 
> twitter [@wildkitte](https://twitter.com/wildkitte)  
> tumblr [@wildkittewrites](http://wildkittewrites.tumblr.com/)

**Author's Note:**

> Next chapter should be up either tomorrow or the day after - Felix POV this time!
> 
> Kudos and comments are appreciated <3  
> twitter [@wildkitte](https://twitter.com/wildkitte)  
> tumblr [@wildkittewrites](http://wildkittewrites.tumblr.com/)


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